Friday Pt. 02

“Remember what we practiced, and don’t screw this up, Dummy.” Tammy hissed as she and Claire clopped out of the elevator together.

“Stop calling me that. I’m... um, like… fully smarter than you, Tams.” The platinum-blonde bleated piteously. “Wait… are we on the right floor? What number is this?”

Claire was looking around in anxious confusion, sparkling bottle-green eyes growing wide under preposterous batwing lashes. She chewed at her pillowy lower lip, puzzling over the building directory on the wall beside them.

It had the floor number clearly displayed in bold, seven-inch font at the top of the sign.

“What floor–are you fucking with me?” The shorter woman fumed and pointed a black-lacquered fingernail down the hallway. “It’s the same floor you work on every day. The office door is right there. Don’t go all tits for brains on me now, Nitwit. We worked on this plan all night.”

After their voyeuristic viewing of the Sam and Sadie Sextacular–ignoring some very lewd noises coming from the maze of filing cabinets–the two senior accountants were all but foaming at the pussy over their previously underestimated and presently overachieving male colleague.

They had clung to each other, heavily-painted faces pressed together as they peeked through the crack in the door. Their heated bodies jostled and rubbed against one another–Tammy’s smaller, lither form sinking into Claire’s soft, luscious curves–as they shared a front-row seat to the award-worthy fuck of the century.

Sam had performed like a prize stallion, a fusion-powered sex machine that could dispense screaming orgasms as though they were candy on Halloween night.

...and that bossy cunt Sadie had hogged him all to herself.

But Sam had said something about finding the idea of them being girlfriends hot. Claire had asked about it, and even his half-mumbled response remained burnt in Tammy’s memory.

The two adversaries would have to become intimately acquainted allies if they wanted a piece of that hard-dicking action.

So Tammy had dragged the generously proportioned blonde back to her uptown apartment and laid out her scheme… the aptly named “Girlfriend Gambit.”

They would join forces, shore up each other's shortcomings, and take a two-pronged approach to hunt the greatest game of all: that uber-hung studmuffin named Sam.

They had raided their much-expanded wardrobes for the tiniest, kinkiest outfits imaginable, modeling various heeled sandals and boots in order of ascending height and experimenting with different ways of styling their long, color-altered hair.

It had been Claire who suggested the kissing drills.

That led to making out in front of the mirror in rehearsal to catch Sam’s eye the next day. Trying out different poses and angles to capture the best visuals, hot bodies and moist lips melting together as they moaned out his name in yearning unison. Needy slits dripping with desire as they ground together for him.

"Oh, Sammy…"

Later they found themselves on Tammy's bed, lying in each other's arms. Claire was so warm and soft that the petite Asian had let herself sink blissfully into the bodacious blonde’s embrace. Silky legs entwined, tongues exploring, and fiddling fingers probing deep into slick wetness, climaxing repeatedly with that same name foremost on their giddy brains.

"Oooh, Sammy!"

Between the pussy-juicing, sheet-clawing moments, they constructed a shared fantasy. One in which they were girlfriends of a sort, drawn to one another by their mutual devotion to Sam and his mouth-watering member. Giggling and gasping like lovestruck school girls at a sleepover, mooning over their teen heart-throb crush as they flicked each other’s pearls and tittered in lewd speculation.

“Gawd, can you imagine what it’ll feel like once he shoves that monster inside you? It’s all I think about.”

“He’s going to love your hair, Tams. The red streaks in your bangs are, like, sooo~ cute.”

“Only if he can drag his eyes away from your jumbo hooters long enough to see them, Claire. Do you think our Sammy is a tit man?”

“Probably, most guys are… but your boobs are totally, like, not small anymore either.”

Claire hadn’t been wrong. Even as Tammy guided her troublingly innumerate companion away from the elevators, she could feel the unfamiliar bounce and sway of fresh weight on her chest, threatening to unbalance her steps.

Who knew that large tits were so sensitive or shifted about so much? Walk at any pace faster than a smooth glide, and they bounced about like two cats fighting in a sack.

They were presently squashed like two ivory grapefruits into the low-swooping neckline of an explicitly abbreviated cheongsam dress. Obsidian satin held together by straps of white ribbon crisscrossing up the sides and under her ripened bosom snuggled Tammy’s otherwise trim torso, ending high enough on her slim, porcelain thighs to reveal the lacy black garter belt and embroidered tops of her spinnerette stockings.

Dark, spiky platform pumps adorned her tiny feet–granting her a much-needed six inches of additional height–while fishnet gloves and a studded leather choker decorated her elegant hands and neck in bands of midnight.

She and Claire had done each other’s makeup for the first time with the help of a few YouTube tutorials. Inky mascara and eyeshadow made Tammy’s almond eyes look disproportionately large and round in her delicate, doll-like face. The charcoal matte on her pert, cupid bow lips contrasted with the pale powder dusting her sharp cheekbones, giving her the nearly cartoonish appearance of an unusually buxom lolita.

Better than some brainless, blonde bimbo, she supposed.

The thought was uncharitable, but there was really no other way to describe Claire.

Her frenemy-turned-lover was essentially a platinum-haired Barbie with miles of golden-tanned legs, gravity-free knockers that went into next week, and a ghetto-class booty that could make a corpse stand to attention.

Any remaining chub in her soft belly, waist, and limbs (along with most of her brain cells) had magically flowed into her already prodigious curves overnight, turning the once-snarky senior number-cruncher into a babbling airhead touting an outrageous pornstar figure and the mental prowess of the average village idiot.

All that eye-candy goodness was poured into a gauzy, hot pink playsuit sparkling with violet sequins that showed off Claire’s succulent derriere like a pair of tiny hotpants and a halter neck stretched thin under the burden of her enormous endowments.

A thick magenta rhinestone belt was slung from her hourglass waist at a coquettish angle with a large decor buckle glittering at the front. Equally pinkified cowgirl boots and a fluffy stetson hat finished out the ranchhouse fuckdoll look.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Claire whined, nervously curling a strand of white gold down into her sunkissed cleavage. “I don’t want to miss him.”

“Where else would he be on a workday?” Tammy shot back, staring enviously at the blonde’s rubbery nipples pressing through the insubstantial fabric of her flirty romper. “Sadie’s been browbeating us all week about tax season. She can’t afford to lock Sammy in her secret sex dungeon just yet.”

“Oh my gosh! Do you think she would, like, actually do that?”

“No! I mean… probably not? We’re getting off track here. Repeat the game plan back to me so I know you haven’t forgotten.”

Claire straightened to attention, shoulders back and tits puffed out as she performed a parade ground salute.

“We’re going in hot as lesbian girlfriends, which is, like, also totally hot. If we see Sammy and his fat, breedable cock, one of us distracts the rest of the girls while the other drags him into the bathroom and, like, gets her brains totally fucked out.”

Tammy palmed her face, careful not to smudge anything.

It was the basic, bare-bones version of the original plan and lacked much of the nuance and detail she had worked into the overall scheme, but it would do in a pinch.

“Fine, fine…” She groaned, “Just remember to play your part, and this shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Whatever you say, Babe.”

Looping her arm through Claire’s, Tammy guided them both through the office door, trying to ignore the excited pulsing in her empty nethers.

“Remember to play it cool–”

“Sammy!” The vivacious ninny squealed, lunging towards the well-built young man seated at his desk. “You’re really here! I missed you so much…”

Tammy watched in disbelief as her witless accomplice fairly skipped across the room, completely disregarding their carefully laid plans of intimate seduction, and literally threw herself at their square-jawed objective.

“Good morning–hmmmff!” Sam’s voice cut off when his face was immediately enveloped in Claire’s mountainous cleavage.

“I’m so happy to see you. Are you happy to see me? I bet you are. And I’m, like, totally horny and fuckable now. You’re a tit man, right? Tams and I were talking about it last night, and my boobs are, like, waaay larger than hers…”

Tammy stalked over as the ditzy blonde prattled at a mile a minute and tried to drag her off the struggling young stud by the back of her collar. The vicious yank pulled Claire backward with the sound of tearing cloth.

“Whoops!” Claire giggled, stumbling as she caught her balance and looked down at the shredded remains of her outfit.

The top half of the hot pink romper wafted like a sparkly, diaphanous skirt down to her waist, held up by the rhinestone belt and leaving her massive, bra-less honkers out on show. She didn’t seem at all upset by the unexpected development, cupping her golden globes of tit-flesh and waving them in Sam’s direction.

“Oh no! My naughty Asian girlfriend has, like, totally exposed my big, bouncy boobies to a hunky guy we both secretly love.” She trilled theatrically, “Whatever should I do?

“What the hell are you doing?” Tammy growled, stepping in front of her and wagging an angry finger. “This isn’t what we discussed, you empty-headed Dumbo.”

“It’s not? I thought we were supposed to say sexy stuff, pretend to be lesbians, and, like, totally make Sammy want to fuck us full of hot, yummy cummy…”

“Umm… Girls? You realize I’m still here, don’t you?” Sam waved from where he was still firmly rooted behind his desk. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”

Utterly mortified, Tammy turned and looked at him only a few feet away. For her part, Claire just waved back with a cheerful grin on her stupid face.

“Sammy, it’s not what you think.” She implored, rushing over and wrapping her small arms around one of his bulging biceps. The shirt sleeve was splitting at the seams, and he seemed so much taller than her now. “She's just a dumb bimbo and doesn't know what she is saying.”

“So you’re not actually gay or into each other on a romantic level.” It was a statement, not a question. “I got that much wrong, but you want me to fuck you anyway?”

“You weren’t totally wrong, Sammy.” Claire crooned, pressing into his other side. Her luscious, tanned breasts enveloped his broad shoulder. “We spent the night jilling each other, totally thinking about you. I came, like, more times than I could count times wishing it was your pussy-pounding cock making me squirt all over the sheets.”

An audible thump came from under the desk that rattled the keyboard, and Sam winced in discomfort.

Tammy looked down and noticed that he had rolled his chair all the way in until his stomach was flush with the edge of the workstation, completely hiding his lower body.

Hardly a comfortable position for typing. So what had caused the sound? Surely not what she dared to imagine was down there…

“It might be more accurate to say we are bi-curious with really heavy Sammy tendencies.” She purred into his ear, running her hands over his manly chest and back, marveling at the defined musculature she felt beneath the straining sweater vest. “We can be whatever you tell us to be. I do love how soft and pretty Claire is now, with her flowing platinum hair and plump, kissable lips.

“She could be my cuddly Claire Bear if you say so. I’ll keep her warm and wet for you to fuck whenever you need… as long as you promise to fuck me too. That’d only be fair since we’re girlfriends now, after all.”

The thump came again, rocking the monitor on its mounting, and Tammy was certain she had guessed the source. Her pussy drooled at the ribald revelation.

“That makes this easier, I suppose,” Sam said, bracing his hands to push away from his desk. “It’s not like I don’t want to plow the both of you into oblivion. Simply didn’t want to stick it where it wasn’t wanted, is all.”

“Oh, Sammy.”

“Oh, Sammy.”

The two women’s combined moans of carnal yearning were interrupted by a sharp crack like that of a whip. Everybody froze in place, heads jerking around to find Sadie standing in the office entrance, her mature, buxom figure covered from neck to toe in a shiny black leather catsuit with a riding crop held fast in her gloved fist.

“Samuel, I need to see you in my office immediately… and Zoey, I can practically smell you masturbating back there. Come join us.”

“Eep!” The surprised sound emitted from behind the filing cabinets. “Yes, Miss Chandler.”

Tammy and Claire groaned in soulful unison when Sam stood, copping an eyeful of the pillar of rigid flesh obtruding from the ruined remains of his khaki trousers before he shook them off and strode past a leering, self-satisfied Sadie into her office.

Thanks for reading my latest chapter. I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Normally this is where I shill for caffeine money but instead, I'd like to beg for your vote in the Annual Literotica Readers Choice Awards. That's right, one of my silly stories is actually up for an award. If you have a Literotica login then it's literally just a single click worth of effort and you'll help me out. Here's the LINK and thanks again for reading.